


Aftermath

by Blithebereavement



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-01 00:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20456171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blithebereavement/pseuds/Blithebereavement
Summary: Sylvain makes a mistake.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the animation by Twitter user @_gautier 
> 
> I edited this drunk after writing it at work so plz be kind

Steel biting into wood. Lift, step, flex, lunge, parry, step. Every movement practiced. Every inch memorized. No need to think. No need to think at all. 

Felix cursed as his blade hit off center, glancing across the shoulder of the wooden dummy. He was distracted, despite how he continued to try and deny it. Not that it was his fault. Sylvain was the one who had…

...displeased him. 

Not that Felix was the same as those jealous floozies who hunted Sylvain down in the abbey. No, not in the slightest. After all, it wasn’t that Sylvain insisted on blowing him off in favor of appeasing those girls. Felix was used to that. Really it was what he had said when Felix (in a moment of shameful weakness) had snapped at him. 

_ “Come on, Fee...you know those girls are nothing. You’re the only one who I want to spend time with-“  _

Felix felt bile burn like venom in his throat. It was one thing to  _ see  _ Sylvain touching those girls after the things he had said to Felix late at night when they were alone. Iit was another entirely to hear those same recycled bullshit lines he always fed to his consorts…

“Fuck!” Felix spat, another blow off target, shoulder wrenching from the weight of his blade twisting against the dummy.

“Whoa! Easy, Fee. You’re never going to beat Dimitri if you let a wooden dummy disarm you.” 

Felix stilled, closing his eyes and sending a silent prayer of hatred to the Goddess. He turned. Sylvain was leaning in the door way and grinning at him, that stupid, slanted grin that meant he knew he was in trouble and was trying to be charming about it. Felix took a measured breath, and hissed it out slowly.

“What,” he asked coldly, “do you want?” 

Sylvain’s smile slipped, the change almost imperceptible, before he slapped it back on like a painted mask. 

“I’m here to train,” he told Felix smugly, straightening to flex his arms over his head. Felix cast his eyes away quickly, not wanting to notice the shift of Sylvain’s biceps under his sleeves, or the sliver of skin from beneath the hem of his shirt. He felt the burn of bile again, his stomach twisting.

Felix took another breath.

“I was just finishing. The room is all yours,” he said, tone measured and devoid of emotion. His back was to Sylvain, so he could not see his expression, but the silence that followed filled Felix with a painful satisfaction. 

“Hey…” 

Felix stiffened in response to that tone, that soft gentle tone that Sylvain rarely used, that stupid, obnoxious, fucking tone that he had used when he’d whispered into Felix’s ear…

Sylvain reached to cup Felix’s wrist gently, stepping too close. Felix turned and twisted his fingers in Sylvain’s collar, shoving him with all his force away. Ever solid, every steady, Sylvain only stumbled a step, but he flushed in shame as if Felix had toppled him.

“Don’t,” Felix hissed, meeting Sylvain’s eyes at last, “Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t come near me. I’m done with you, Sylvain.” 

Felix turned away before he had to see the pain flicker across Sylvain’s expression. He squeezed the hilt of his sword, focusing on that pain, rather than the one that was splitting this chest and cutting his throat. 

Sylvain watched him go, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt honestly afraid. 

  
  


\--

  
  


Sylvain understood war. He’d killed men and women, often in ways that still kept him up at night. Years ago, when he’d been a student, it had made him cry sometimes, when he was alone in bed and only Felix could hear him. But things were different now, and they stayed different. Sylvain wore his smile, every day, both for himself and for his friends. Sylvain didn’t cry for the dead anymore. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d gone numb until Felix’s cry stilled his blood in a way that had never chilled him before. 

Lance raised above the head of a soldier, Sylvain stopped as if he had been cursed.

_ No. Impossible. I misheard. It wasn’t.  _

He wrenched the reins of his horse, which gave an irritated whinny and bucked into a turn. By the time he reached Felix’s side, he was already halfway dismounted. Felix’s leg buckled and Sylvain threw his arm out, catching him around his waist. 

_ I wanted to touch you, but not like this…  _

_ “ _ Felix!” Sylvain cried, finding his voice as he stared in shock at the arrow jutting from the man’s chest. Felix gazed upon it with equal shock, Sylvain sinking to brace him in his arms against the ground. Felix opened his mouth to speak and choked, his eyes widening as he coughed a volley of blood over his jaw. Sylvain gave a cry, as pained as if it had been his own blood spilled. His shaking hand clutched Felix’s face desperately. 

If he could just keep sight of Felix’s eyes, then it would be okay, than  _ he _ would be okay.

Right? 

“Hey...Felix, hey, come on...look at me. Felix!” Sylvain’s voice shook, but he could barely hear it over the sound of his heart throbbing in his throat. Felix’s eyes were still on his...until they weren’t, rolling up into his head as he continued to choke on his own blood.

The Professor! She would know what to do, she always knew what to do...Sylvain snapped his head up, desperately throwing his eyes across the battlefield. The front line had advanced too far now to shout, though he tried...god he tried. 

Then, like a goddess herself, Mercedes appeared. Sylvain whipped his haunted gaze to her, unable to do more than desperately gasp. 

“Help me,” he begged, clutching Felix to his chest as though if he only held tight enough, than maybe…

Mercedes knelt, her hands moving too fast for Sylvain to track. Her eyes were sharp, a stubborn frown furrowing her brow. Her head raised, and she called for a field surgeon. 

_ No, no, that can’t be right...a surgeon? He just needs to be healed...just one spell and it will all be okay, he’ll be fine, Felix will be- _

“Sylvain. Let go.” Mercedes was pulling on his arm, using the voice that she only did on the battlefield. Another pair of hands pulled on him, but Sylvain didn’t know who it was. HIs eyes were on Felix, whose body soon vanished underneath the shoulders of the men and women who rushed to Mercedes aid. 

Someone shoved Sylvain’s lance back into his hand, and he kept fighting, but he saw none of it. His mind was ravaged, consumed only with the look that had been in Felix’s eyes when they’d met his own. 

\--

When Felix woke, he was in the infirmary. He could also breathe again, which was a nice change of pace from the last time he’d been conscious. He fucking hurt, but less than when there had been an arrow in his lung. 

His hand was warm. 

Felix opened his eyes, turning his head to see Sylvain bent over his bed as if in prayer, brow pressed the shape of Felix’s hip and hand clutching Felix’s wrist, his knuckles white. For a moment, he thought Sylvain was asleep, but as he shifted, the man shot up, eyes hopeful and desperate in a way that made Felix still with surprise. 

“Hey…” Sylvain said, voice ragged as he leaned forward, brows knit tightly together. He touched Felix’s jaw and then his face split into a grin, a weak laugh of relief escaping his lips. Felix opened his mouth to speak but only coughed, and the concern returned, Sylvain standing to help him to his water. 

“...what…?” Felix rasped, narrowing his eyes in irritation over how weak his voice sounded. Sylvain’s lips turned into a shaky smile again, his heart aching at the familiarity of Felix’s scowl. 

“You were hit with an arrow. Mercedes said...she said your lung collapsed. She wasn’t sure…” Sylvain sat. Felix watched his throat flex as he swallowed, his gaze dropping to Sylvain’s hands, which rose to run through his red hair. 

“Felix...I…”   
  


“Don’t,” Felix interrupted Sylvain, unable to bear hearing his apology. Not when he looked so pathetic, “It doesn’t matter.”

Sylvain frowned, obviously conflicted. It did matter, to him. It mattered that Felix knew how he felt, how he really felt. But...Felix looked so weak, so pissed off and plaintive. Felix had always been the strong one of the two of them…

“Okay…” Sylvain whispered, dropping his head once more in shame. He was silent for a long moment, and then, “You can’t do that to me again.” 

“What?” Felix huffed, narrowing his eyes, “It’s not like I dived into the path of the arrow.”

“I know,” Sylvain said, frustrated, rubbing his palms into his eyes. “It’s just…” He paused, agonized, then dropped his hands to meet Felix’s gaze, “What use do I have for life if I don’t have you?” 

A long silence rested between them. 

“Stupid,” Felix told him, voice cracking as he reached out. Sylvan leaned into Felix’s arm, rubbing his hand up his bandaged chest to cup Felix’s jaw. He rested his brow against Felix’s chest, taking a deep, slow breath. 

“I’ll never talk to a girl again,” he whispered. Felix rolled his eyes.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he scolded. He felt Sylvain smile against him, and Felix at last exhaled a breath of relief. His chest hurt a little less now. 

Slowly, almost curiously, Felix ran his fingers through Sylvain’s hair. He used to touch him like this, when they were kids, but not for many years now. He felt Sylvain breathe in, nuzzling closer into Felix’s scent. Felix clicked his tongue.

“If you’re going to act like a dog, then at least come when I call,” he murmured. Sylvain lifted his head, moving to brush his lips softly against Felix’s. Felix was too weak to pretend he didn’t want it. 

“I will. Always.” 

“Promise.”

“I promise.” 


End file.
